Sleepover RussiaxCanada
by FanSlewFantasy
Summary: Reposted from old account. Canada is staying the night at Russia's and there is a powercut. 100% pure fluff. Absolutely. Warm fuzzy face kicking coziness. Implied yaoi, but mostly FLUFF!


Reposted from old account. thanks to all who faved it and reviewed before, and im sorry that it was taken down. but fear not! its here now to stay. :)

HOLY SHIT! LOOK AT THIS BADASS MOTHERFUCKING SMUT-FREE FLUFF! THIS FUCKINGS STORY PISSES GODAMNED RAINBOWS AND UNICORNS! IT MAKES KITTENS LOOK LIKE LAST MONTHS MANKY MEATLOAF SURPRISE NO-ONE ATE AND IT SAT AT THE BACK OF YOUR FRIDGE AND ROTTED FOR AGES UNTILL IT STARTED GROWING AMS AND LEGS! THIS! ONESHOT! IS! FUCKING! KAWAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!

You have been warned.

…

"Whatcha doooooing?"

"Hm?" I kept my eyes on the marshmallow bag I was trying to wrestle open when I felt his touch on my neck. I jumped, the feeling was foreign, bare skin on that part of my body was a rarity, but air conditioning saw to it that it was much to hot to wear my scarf inside.

"Ah, sorry." He moved his hand and peeked over my shoulder. "Yum! Marshmallows! What are we doing with them?"

"Making s'mores. You like those right? Look." I tore open the bag, fluffy pink and white sweets went everywhere, spilling over the countertop. A few fell on the hardwood floor, but I just kicked them under the cupboard. Lithuania could take care of it later, da?

Two marshmallows fit perfectly on the thin chocolate covered biscuits I had found in the foreign food aisle at the supermarket. I took five biscuits from the packet, one for me to eat now, two to make s'mores and two more for him. He promptly put one in his mouth and leaned closer.

"These taste awesome! What are they?"

I shrugged and pressed the marshmallows between two biscuits, sitting the finished product on a plate. "Now, we microwave." I pushed him aside gently and reached for the handle of the microwave. Ten seconds should do it.

As the fluorescent numbers counted down, I relaxed and took him in. Tall and thin, always smiling sweetly, wavy blonde hair framing his face with easy beauty. I'd never met such a gentle, sweet natured man before. I certainly would not have expected the brother of America to be so pleasant and lovely, but there he was, the only one brave enough to take me up on my offer of a winter sleepover. Honestly, it was as if the other nations were scared of me or something! God knows why.

The microwave beeped, I pulled out the result, a gooey, melted chocolate and biscuit sandwich, and took a bite. It was good.

"Want some?" I offered him. He shook his head.

"No, you finish that one, I will make my own."

"Don't be silly like a Frenchman, go and sit down. I will make you some and bring them in. It's warmer in the living room, da?"

"I guess. Thanks." He smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, and shuffled out of the bright kitchen and into the dim, cosy confines of my living quarters. The television was on in there, volume low, I thought of the stack of movies I had found to entertain us and called to him.

"Choose a movie while you are in there."

There wasn't much, and most of them were Russian dramas, but I had found some kids movies and even a French romance. I couldn't understand a word of French, but this night wasn't about me, it was about being a good host.

"oh! You have _Paris, je t'aime_! Where did you get this?" the excited pop of an opening DVD case from the sitting room. I withdrew a few more biscuits and smiled.

"I dunno… I think Lithuania got it somewhere."

"Awesome!"

I smiled and pulled some more of the biscuits out of the packet. The clock on the microwave said 8pm. We could make it through two or three movies before sleeping, I decided. I hadn't spent time with a friend for so long, and I wanted to make the most of it. An all nighter would be best but I wasn't sure about how well this guy would take that. If he was anything like his awful brother, he would be bouncing off the walls until midnight and then sleep like the dead until 11 the next day. Although up to this point he had proven himself to be not in the least like the unpleasant Alfred F Jones, it paid to err on the safe side of things.

"Oi, er…" I furrowed my brow. What was his name again? Uh oh… bad start.

"Canada." He called back, and I cringed. How could I have forgotten that?

"Yeah… Canada."

"If its easier, you can call me Matthew. What is it?"

"Did you bring a sleeping bag and mattress?"

"Yes, but I need to borrow a pillow."

"That's fine." He was even so considerate in that aspect. What a boy. Although he was so much younger than I, for a short moment I entertained the thought of becoming one with him. He represented a large landmass, and he was certainly more pleasant than Belarus. We would be good allies. But I dismissed the idea. This evening wasn't about politics or landmass or being a nation. It was about making _friends. _I had been without such for far too long.

"Hey, Russia?"

"Da?" I began sandwiching marshmallows between biscuits and arranging them in optimum position on a plate, close enough to fit more than six and far enough apart to prevent merging should they melt too much.

"Is it okay if I call you Ivan? Russia seems a little formal, seeing as it's just us, eh. How do you turn on your DVD player, by the way?"

"Remote's on the coffee table." My smiled warmed considerably and I resisted the urge to clap my hands. "And of course you can call me Ivan."

Into the microwave with the plate of biscuits, I began humming the Sony home entertainment start up in time with the TV as I keyed ten seconds into the microwave. I pressed start.

Everything went black.

Which of course I hadn't planned on.

I swore and thumped the heel of my palm on the keypad of the machine in agitation, ignoring the large crack that webbed across the panel. A soft 'oh dear…' from the next room.

"Ivan what happened?"

"Power cut. It happens sometimes in bad weather."

I gazed hopelessly around the dark kitchen; the wind that buffered the house grew louder, mocking me.

"okay." The creak of floorboards as he stood. "Do you know how long it will last?"

"No…" I felt depression settle over me in a dark cloud. "Probably all night."

"Oh…"

So my house was old and useless. That wasn't my fault. I should have known better though, that winter was coming and that meant an assault of the seasons on my countryside abode. I should have had Estonia or Latvia fix the faulty wiring in the summer, when it wasn't too dangerous to be up on the loose-tile roof. But no. I hadn't thought of that, had I?"

Grumbling darkly, I thought of the smaller Baltic nations, asleep happily in their little room on the other side of the house. I had invited them to join us, but for some reason they didn't seem keen. No matter, I had anticipated that young Matthew and I would enjoy ourselves regardless. It didn't look like that was going to happen now. Unless…

"Estonia…" I called the man's national name aloud, smile returning to my face. "Oh, Estonia! Wake up and help mother Russia, da?"

"Huh? What? Ivan where are you?" Matthew's shadowy from re-emerged from the living room. Fortunate enough to have perfect vision, I could make out his arms thrust in front of him, groping air, feeling for possible obstructions. The boy had poor eyesight, so of course he would be unable to see me on the other side of the room.

"I'm over here." I reached for his wrist and raised my voice to call Estonia again. "Estonia… come on, I will go in there and get you if I must."

"What? Hey- oh! Ouch!" he kicked the corner of the breakfast bar by accident. "Maple, that hurt. Why are you calling Estonia? Won't he be relaxing?"

"Oh no. I make sure all the Baltics are asleep by seven. Bad tempered and poorly behaved if they stay up to late. I care for them to much to let that happen." I opened my mouth to shout this time, I really didn't want to actually go and get the kid, but Matthew cut me off.

"Then why wake him? He can't put the electricity back on."

"No, but there's a generator on the roof. I will get him to go and sort it out for us, I'm too big and you are a guest. He will make short work of the task."

Matthew seemed… displeased with this proposition.

"Ivan, you realise its negative two degrees and blowing a gale out there."

"Yes."

"So how can you send Estonia up on the roof in such conditions? It's inhumane!"

"Inhumane?" I frowned at the word. I'd heard it before, sure, but I was a bit sketchy on the meaning.

"Yes!" he tugged on my sleeve imploringly. "Come on. Let's sit in the living room and chat. I'm sure that the power will come back soon."

I blinked astonished. No nation had ever dared to question me or what I did before. It was new and I was unsure how to respond.

"Come on." He pulled again, more insistently this time, and I stumbled behind him as he groped his way back to the dark living room. The marshmallows on the counter fell when I passed, my coat knocking the packet sideways, but I caught them just in time. The two of us shuffled into the dark sitting room and with a triumphant little 'Hm', he located the sofa and fell onto it, making himself comfortable.

"Well?" he patted the sofa beside him, I was unable to make out his expression in the dark but his tone was kind and genuine. "sit with me. Let's chat about… well, erm, what do you like?"

"sunflowers." I dropped the packet of marshmallows on the coffee table and collapsed numbly into the seat beside him. "I like sunflowers…"

"Pancakes?"

"Uh… I don't know." I blushed and looked at the darkness in my lap. The windows rattled and I realised that soon, miserably, it would begin getting cold. Without air conditioning, this place was like an igloo.

"Hmm… okay." He adjusted his glasses and gazed into the darkness thoughtfully. I cleared my throat.

"Well, um… would you like to help me light a fire?" I gestured to the empty grate even though he couldn't see it. "It's cold and well… it will give us something to do I guess."

"Hm? Yeah, sure. Good idea." He slid loosely off the sofa and crawled, feeling his way to the fireplace on the left wall. "Well, come on Ivan."

"Uh… right. Sorry."

I hurried over and crouched in front of the empty grate, digging around in my pockets for matches or something to light a fire. I didn't have any, but he did. A small silver lighter engraved with some indistinguishable thing, he held it awkwardly as he got comfortable, flicking it casually on and off.

"You carry a lighter?"

"It's Alfred's." He said simply.

There was some wood in a stack by the television; I reached past him to retrieve some, a little awkward due to how close it brought us. His smell filled mind, sweet and rich, like wood and syrup. It was a surprisingly dense scent, actually, considering how small and light he is. Very powerful in its subtlety, and very agreeable.

"Do you have some newspaper or something to light?"

"Da, one moment, I need to get wood first. ack!" in groping for firewood, I leant to far, loosing my balance and almost crushing him. His hand gripped my shoulder and he laughed a little.

"Need some help?"

"Please." I sat up and he leaned backward, reaching for a block of wood and dragging it forward.

"ta-da." The wood was placed in the grate and he tucked a shadowy tendril of hair behind his ear. "Heh, Ivan… 'I need to get wood first'." A little giggle, I frowned.

"We have wood though."

"No, I know I was quoting you."

"Why?"

A silence filled with anticipation, my brow crinkled. Was I missing something?

After a while, he laughed again and patted my arm. "Don't worry. So about that newspaper?"

Newspaper there wasn't, but a quick trip to my office yielded stacks of old papers that were no longer important. Well, I hoped the papers were no longer important; it was hard to tell due to how dark it was. I screwed them up anyway and stuffed them in the grate with the wood. He lit them up, and they caught with a crack and a flicker. Soon a merry fire was burning, dancing in the grate and bathing the two of us in a warm orange glow. He dropped the lighter and it clicked on the stone hearth.

"Job well done." I heard the smile in his voice as well as being able to see it. Gold danced on his skin, casting bronze hues in his hair and glowing silky smooth and radiant across the features of his face. The heat from the fire was immediate; I pushed my hair off my forehead so it wouldn't get sweaty.

"Right, we should be warmer now."

"mm. Yeah. Hang on, could you hold these?"

He passed me a pair of fine wire framed glasses, before pulling his hooded sweatshirt up over his head and tugging it off. He wore a baggy singlet top underneath, the name of some Canadian band or another scrawled across the front. I felt my lips curve upward to see him dressed so casually. The neat suits he wore at meetings didn't suit him; I much preferred to see the boy dressed like a normal teenager. I wish I'd been able to wear band singlets when I was younger, and without thinking about it, I voiced that thought.

"What do you mean?" he smoothed his hair, which had been mussed when he took off his hoodie, and reached for his glasses.

"I never got to wear clothes like that when I was a kid, you're lucky."

"What, clothes like this?" he looked down at his top and frowned. "This is nothing. I just grabbed it from the wardrobe."

"Da, and these." I plucked his jeans, washed out black things that were a little too tight and torn in places. "It must be nice."

He shrugged, long curly lock of hair bobbing, and looked at me through puzzled eyes.

"It's just… clothing."

"hmm." No longer interested in talking about outfits, I pointed to the big iron poker behind him and he raised his eyebrows. "Can you pass me that please?"

"Yeah, sure."

I took the heavy poker he offered me and prodded the fire with it, the flames jumped a bit as the wood began to catch. He sighed and flopped backward onto the big bearskin rug beneath us.

"This is kind of nice, don't you reckon Ivan?"

"Da." I set the poker down, not really listening, still a little upset about the whole 'no electricity' thing and trying to think up some way to actually have fun today after all. He kept on talking.

"I haven't really stayed at a friend's house properly in ages. I've been so busy with the G8 and stuff I haven't known what to do… Alfred is being his same jerky self and Arthur never listens to me. And don't even get me started on Francis…" he spoke so cheerfully, smiling despite his words, and propped himself up on his elbows. "Fuck my life, eh? Sometimes I bother why I even get out of bed."

And that was suddenly another thing I found myself admiring about this boy. He seemed to be a perpetual optimist, good natured and friendly. Unsure how to respond, I never was so good with comforting others and the likes, I smiled some more and looked to the bag of marshmallows on the coffee table.

"Pass me that candy?"

"Huh? Oh yeah sure." He tipped his head back, exposing his elegant throat to me, and stretched his arm up and over to grab the bag off the table. He struggled to reach, bending his knee for more leverage he shuffled back, his arm swung out and he toppled to the side, landing awkwardly with a fump.

"Ow…"

I giggled and crawled forward, intending to get the bag myself.

"Clumsy guy, da?" I lent over him, arms either side of his head.

"Not really." He scratched his nose and snickered. "I'm a decent gymnast, most of the time."

"Saving it for the Olympics are you?"

"Hmm… yeah. That must be it."

We both laughed, and I finally claimed the marshmallows.

"Want one?"

"Ahh…" he opened his mouth wide and I dropped one, it hit his nose and fell to the carpet, sending both of us off into fits of giggles again.

"Nice aim."

"I'm saving all my good shots for the Olympics"

Matthew laughs very sweetly, louder than he speaks and bubbling with life.

"Good for you."

"Here, here, let me try again."

He closed his eyes and opened his mouth once more, chest still shaking with subtle mirth. This time, I made sure to place the marshmallow neatly on his tongue. He closed his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

"tathes goodth." He mumbled through his mouthful. His Adams apple bobbed when he swallowed. "Tastes good, I mean."

"Da, I got that." I took a little moment longer to just look at him, before turning away and looking for the poker again. "Here, you like roasted marshmallows?"

"Sure." The rustle of cloth as he sat up and shuffled forward. I jumped when I felt his weight on my back, his chin resting on my shoulder. "gunna do them on this?" his arm snaked around, lifting the poker and, suddenly very self conscious, I nodded.

"Da. Can I have it." My hand trembled a little as I took the thing; he seemed perfectly at home leaning against me. Clearly he hadn't noticed the thundering of my heart in my chest.

Neither of us said anything as I took four or five marshmallows from the packet and slid them onto the poker. The crinkle of the packet they were in was different from the crackle of the fire, and that sound was different again from the sound of denim jeans folding and shifting as he made himself more comfortable behind me. I began to feel sweat seep through my loose shirt. From heat blasting of the fire or nerves I wasn't sure. His breath by my ear was calm and soft.

The two of us preserved the silence when I suspended the poker with the marshmallows on it over the embers at the base of the flames. Experience had taught me that sticking a marshmallow directly into a fire was a bad idea, so I would roast them in the ashes tonight. Slower, but much more pleasant for all involved. The smell of singed sugar filled the warm air and I watched the marshmallows brown slowly, not paying any attention at all. Canada was so… _nice_ against me. His body delicate and very unfamiliar. When was the last time I had been this close to another person? I'd never been this close to another person. Willingly. Belarus didn't count.

"Hey Ivan, they look done." His arm reached around my shoulder and he tugged my wrist back gently. I felt myself blush. Hard. Thoughts of becoming one with Canada rose to the surface of my mind once more, but I beat them down forcibly.

We are here to make _friends_.

"Da, okay. Here." I stuck the poker roughly toward him, narrowly missing his face, and he made a soft noise of shock.

"Whoa, careful." He took the poker from me and tossed his hair aside. "Nearly took my nose off."

"Sorry." I hadn't intended to of course. He dismissed my apology with a wave of his hand.

"It's okay. Did you want some?"

I shook my head and he shrugged, dragging the first marshmallow off the end of the poker with neat little teeth. Melted marshmallow clung to his upper lip, he flicked his tongue up and licked it, sliding sideways off my back and cosying up beside me a little more.

"I love marshmallows." He mused, nibbling at another before tearing it from the poker.

"… me too." I watch, entranced, as he finished off the other couple and set the poker on the ground once more.

"Mmm. That was good."  
>"Want another?" I plucked one from the packet without looking and offered it to him. He grinned and leaned forward, pinching it from my fingers with his lips.<p>

"What, are you trying to fatten me up?"

"No…" but my hand was already reaching for another marshmallow. I registered dully there were only a few more in the bag.

"Are you sure?" he raised his eyebrows, placing a hand on my leg as he tilted his head back to grab the new marshmallow I held a little out of reach. He struggled to seize his prize, I chuckled.

"You have to work for it, da?"

"You suck Ivan."

"Yes please."

"What?"

He paused and blinked at me; I shook my head and hoped he couldn't see my darkening cheeks in the firelight.

"Nothing. Here." I pressed the sweet to his lips and he took it, eyes fixed on my face, lips brushing the tip of my finger and lingering for just a split second. Long enough to send a small electric shiver right down my spine.

"No, what'd you say, I didn't hear you."

"It's okay, it was nothing." The next marshmallow went into my mouth. Three more left. I held two of them out to him in my flat palm and he accepted them cheerfully, eating them both at once.

"Okay, if you say so."

We lapsed back into silence, his gaze fell to the fire and mine fell to his profile, licked by light and shadow dancing across pretty features.

I raised the last marshmallow to my own mouth; he glimpsed it out of the corner of his eye and the corner of his lip twitched up.

"Are you hogging the marshmallows?"

"I thought you didn't want to be fat."

"Oh pffft. Who cares? If your holding back on me then that's not fair. Gimme gimme."  
>The last marshmallow was in my mouth already, but I held it there, poking out my tongue and showing him.<p>

"Last one."

"aww… serious."

I nodded and he sighed.

"Fine…" his head tipped to the side, resting on my breast. Once again I snatched a whiff of that sweet woody smell from his hair. He peeked up at me, I noticed then how long his eyelashes were, the soft velvety sheen of his lips. "Hey Ivan."

"Mmm?"

"You have marshmallow powder on your lip."

I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand and he shook his head.

"Not there. Here, let me get it." He rubbed my bottom lips softly with his finger and smiled sweetly. "There, fixed."

I couldn't respond. My breath was much to short. That _touch_. His fingertips… so soft and fine.

I looked away in embarrassment. A contented little noise escaped him.

"Hey Ivan?"

"mm?"

"I like you, and I'm glad you want to be friends. I even think that in time I can forgive you for sitting on me."

"… I sat on you?" I frowned, concerned. "When?"

He merely started laughing again.

…

The fire was low, red embers glowing in the grate, warm air still rising off it in waves. I pulled my coat further up over the sleeping boy beside me and smiled, incredibly, wordlessly happy. It was only eleven, he had fallen asleep mid-hockey debate, but I genuinely didn't mind. No, I honestly felt like nothing could ever bother me again. Ever.

He stirred in his sleep, pulling the coat further up around his chin, and snuggled back against my chest. My hand found its way to his hair; I petted him calmly and studied him even closer than I had so far. He had fallen asleep with his glasses on. How sweet.

I decided that maybe I did want to become one with Canada after all.

"Nyet!" I murmured under my breath, giving my brain a fairly hard kick. "He's my _friend_. Just my friend." I smoothed his cheek with my palm. Warm and smooth, a delightful texture. Breathtaking, if you're going to be matter of fact about it. He smiled in his sleep and mumbled something inaudible. I leaned in closer, trying to hear what he was saying to no avail.

I let my eyes fall shut and relaxed, trying to drink in every aspect of this moment. The warmth, the softness of the rug beneath us, even his aroma. Everything.

This was a good night.

I buried my face in his hair and held him close for warmth. He shifted in my arms, trying to get comfortable and finally settling down again in my embrace. That shadowy smile still turned his lips, his gentle breathing contented me deeply.

The feeling of human closeness was new and wonderful to me, happy, numbing. I resisted the temptation to crush him against my chest as forcibly as I could. Prior mistakes have been noted, lessons have been learned. Germany never did forgive me for that time I crushed Italia's collarbone.

I hummed a Russian folk tune to him, stroking his back in small, circular motions.

Ah Matthew. Matthew, Matthew, Matthew…

Suddenly, unwelcomely, everything was flooded with harsh white light. Electricity pinged back on and positively sizzled my corneas. I cried out and squeezed my eyes shut.

"Hmm? Oh, powers back."

I cracked my eyes open again, cautious. His eyes were open too, bright and sparkly. They flicked upward, taking in the brightness, and I realised with a horrible jerk it was entirely possible he had been awake the whole time.

"Da, looks like it."

He sighed happily and raised his glasses, rubbing his eyes with his fingers.

"I guess we can watch the DVDs now, can't we?"

"I guess."

I wondered, would it be to obvious if I just stopped rubbing his back? Would it call attention to the action or was he already aware of it?

He didn't move. He didn't say anything. He just looked at me. Just looked. I felt my cheeks darken. My pulse sped up a little and I reluctantly halted my caress.

"What is it?"

His face broke into a pretty smile, and in a split second I managed to catch an eyeful of his face up close and fully illuminated. A gentle hand touched the tip of my nose.

"I only just noticed… you have freckles."

…_fin…_

Hehe…

"hang on, need to get wood first."

"want some help?"

XD

So there you go. That was my first attempt at FWP (fluff without plot). Its not so easy… sure I love to read fluff but im not sure im up to writing it.

I don't own hetalia, or the characters, or anything. Sigh…


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